The DogAwful Truth
by Alexandria the Great
Summary: (non-yaoi) A look into Quatre's relationship with his servant/general Rashid. You may be surprized. Author of Peacetime Wars. Complete
1. Pain

            Quatre sucked in his breath and held it for the longest time.  He hoped Rashid wouldn't find him here, laying flat under his bed, holding back tears.  He'd been bad.  He'd done a horrible thing.  How could I? Quatre thought to himself, What was I thinking?  He heard the door open.  Heavy footsteps tramped through, the room, calling Quatre's name.  Please, God, let me hold my breath so long I suffocate, then I would have to feel the pain…

            "Aha!" Rashid lifted the bed skirt and took hold of Quatre's arm.  He dragged Quatre from under the bed.

            "No!" Quatre made an attempt to fight back.  Rashid slapped him and blood ran from his nose.

            "I told you never to go in there, didn't I? _Didn't I?"_

            "Yes!" Quatre cried, tears brimming through his numbness.

            "Then what the hell were you doing?"

            "I was just—"

            "Nothing!" Rashid hollered, banging Quatre's head against a bedpost.  "Nothing!"

He took hold of Quatre's hair and dragged him out of the room.  Quatre's nose left a trail of blood behind them.  Quatre struggled and cried out.

            "No, Rashid, please! I swear to God I won't do it anymore! I wasn't trying to—"

            Rashid threw Quatre against a wall and took a whip down from a display.

            "Show me your backside, boy!"

            "Please, no, Rashid—"

            "_Turn around!_" Rashid hollered, whipping Quatre across his chest. His shirt tore and he whimpered, slowly turning.  Rashid beat him fiercely.

            "Don't you ever go in there, again, you little bastard, I am your father and you do what the _hell_ I tell you too, you got it?"

            Quatre held his head low, backed up against the wall, whipped and defeated.

            "Get your stupid ass up those stairs and don't make me come up there again!" 

            Quatre bolted past Rashid up the stairs and locked the door to his room.  He backed away from the door, wiping his bloody nose, his every move paining his chest and shoulders.  He sniffled and let out, hurt, uneven breaths.  He went into the bathroom and blotted his severe punishments.  Rashid is right, Quatre thought, I had no right to be in there.


	2. Quatre

            Quatre was forced to emasculate himself to save his dignity.  He dotted liquid foundation on his face and blended it as best he could.  Duo was inviting himself over and was bringing Hilde (and Heero and Wufei and Trowa and Catherine etc, etc).  He wanted to see them, but he didn't want them to see him.  He hoped to high heaven that they couldn't tell.  Rashid suddenly appeared behind him.  Quatre froze.

            "Your guests have arrived," he said simply, "hurry up."

            Quatre nodded nervously.  "Will you bring us out some hot chocolate and cookies?"

            Rashid smiled warmly.  "Certainly, Master Quatre."

            Quatre smiled nervously back.  He scooted by Rashid and hurried down the stairs.  Quatre suddenly found himself in a big pair of warm arms.  

            "Quat-man!" Duo exclaimed, "Great to see ya!"

            Hilde kissed his cheek. "How have you been?"

            Trowa extended a hand.  Quatre shook one hand with Wufei and one with Trowa.

            Heero gave Quatre a half smile, but paid more attention to the girl on his arm—the beautiful Relena.  Relena hugged Quatre.  He hesitantly put his arms around her, trying not to pain his burning arms and back.  The whole lot of them went to his massive veranda.

            The laughing and talking penetrated even the hardest soldiers of the bunch.  There were no forced smiles or introverted characteristics shown on this happy afternoon; just pure and unadulterated fun.  Rashid served them with a smile and "Can I get you anything else?"  Duo commented that he didn't know that Rasid was a servant.

            "He wanted to stay with me after the war, but couldn't fight, so he was just like, 'you need someone parental figure in your life,' so I told him, 'come then Rashid, come be my father.'"

            All the girls thought it was so cute how proper Quatre was.  He smiled and blushed.

            "I'm cute when I'm proper too," Duo added, not to be out done with female attention by Quatre.  Quatre shuddered at his own words, the words he'd so stupidly said two painful years ago…_Come be my father, Rashid._ God, I wish I had just been an orphan. 

            "I'm sorry Dorothy couldn't make it to lunch, Quat," Relena offered, "I hope you see her soon."

            "Oh, I will.  She's flying in later and staying with me a few nights."

            "Oh, ok." Everybody said, winking.

            "Save the good stuff for last, eh buddy?"

            "Oh," Quatre blushed, realizing how that sounded to the receivers.

            Everyone laughed. 

            Lunch ended slowly, the conversations wearing into the eve.  The lot of them went horseback riding until night had fully set in.  To Quatre, it was a truly golden time away from Rashid, and his façade of care.  When they returned to the mansion, Dorothy had finally arrived.  Relena go the first hug, followed by the rest of the girls.  Quatre was _so_ happy to see her.  Surely Rashid wouldn't hurt him in front of Dorothy.  She was just as happy to see him.  He was, after all, her dream man.  Everyone left at about the same time, except for Duo, who wanted to play with everything that was made of glass.  Hilde finally dragged him off with the promise of an 'all-nighter'.  Dorothy kissed Quatre long and deep the moment the door closed behind them.

            "I put my stuff in your room," she cooed, rubbing her nose against his.  

            "Wait that means…" Quatre muttered innocently.

            "That's right, lover," she assured, "bet cha can't wait, can you?"

            "Yeah, first time should be great fir rich guys."  His hand slid down her back and on her behind.

            Dorothy giggled.  "Why Quatre Winner, I didn't know you were such a bad boy."

            "I'm much, much worse.  You don't want to hear about my dreams."

            "Tell me and I'll make them reality."

            The two giggled and nuzzled.  Rashid made his presence known, clearing his throat loudly.

            "Oh, Rashid, hi," Dorothy pulled away from Quatre.  

            "Miss Catalonia," Rashid muttered an acknowledgement.

            "Dorothy, do you want to go for a walk?"

            "You need to get up too early in the morning, Master Quatre."  How could Rashid beat him, then call him master? Quatre's stomach turned at the hypocrisy.  

            "I'll be fine, Rashid.  We'll just be out for a while—"

            "You need your rest, Master, so you need to go to bed now."

            "We'll just be out for a bit Rashid."

            "You wanted someone to look after you Quatre.  The least you could do is obey me."

            "Rashid why are you making such a big deal of this?" Dorothy stepped in. "It's a frikin' walk around the park; we're not going across an ocean."

            "You stay out of this!" Rashid yelled at Dorothy.  Dorothy stepped back, surprised and frightened.

            "Leave her alone," Quatre raised his voice, "You need to chill, Rashid."

            "Don't tell me to chill when _you _appointed me to a job and I do it!" Rashid yelled right over Quatre and Dorothy's heads.  Rashid stormed out.  Dorothy looked at Quatre, fear in her eyes.

            "Why was he yelling at us like that?" she murmured.  Quatre shrugged, taking Dorothy's hand and quickly walking out to the gardens. 

            An hour later, the two returned, tired, but still energized enough for a **good night**.  Dorothy kissed Quatre, heading upstairs.

            "Hey there, wonder woman, don't get started without me."

            "Hurry up, you might have to interrupt."  She scurried up the steps.  He watched her go before proceeding to the kitchen for some champagne. Rashid was there, waiting for him.  Quatre's heart stopped.  Rashid was holding a stick, a thin whispy one.  Quatre just stood in the doorway.

            "You said you wanted a father figure," he began, "You asked me to come.  This isn't a one-way deal, stupid.  This is a father-son deal.  And father-son is mutual.  Every action has a reaction. You disobey me, you get punished.  Turn around."

            Quatre, against his own will, shook his head.  Rage engulfed Rashid's eyes.  He grasped the nape of Quatre's neck, slamming his face to the table and holding his there.  He gave Quatre a lash with the stick.  Quatre whimpered.

            "How dare you defy me!" he yelled, lashing with every word.  Quatre felt his back begin to irritate and bleed.  "I am your father! You will love me! You will honor me! You will praise me for _everything _you have! How helped you keep this damn house? _ME!_ Who helped you planet that damn garden? _ME!_ Who the hell nursed your wounds? _Who?_ _WHO?_"

            "You!" Quatre cried into the table.

            "Damn right me!" Rashid yelled in his ear, "_Now are you sorry?"_

            "Yes!"

            "_Now _do you feel horrible for sinning against your father?!"

            "Yes!"

            "What do you say?"

            "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

            Rashid struck him harder than ever.  Quatre cried out.  "Sorry for _what?_"

            "I'm sorry I disobeyed you, father!"

            Rashid jerked Quatre up by his neck and pushed him against the counter, his back side feeling like it had been amputated. Quatre breathed hard, his eyes bloodshot from holding back tears.  His face was numb from being pressed against the table an holding back screams and screams and screams. 

            "Get outta my sight!" Rashid yelled at his son.  Quatre bolted out and up the stairs.  He stood panting outside the door to his room.  He couldn't let Dorothy see him like this, having sinned against his kind father.  He took a few steps to the door peering through a crack.  Dorothy was nude in his bed, daydreaming about all the wonderful things he would do to her.  Quatre stepped back, heading toward the bathroom.  He took a long, cold shower, punishing himself for rebelling against Rashid, the only one who would take care of him and love him and discipline him properly.  Sons that rebel against their fathers don't get warm, soothing showers.


	3. Rashid

            Dorothy was, to say the least, agitated.  Besides Rashid's hideous attitude and Quatre's whimping out, she was stressed about things at work.  She sun bathed on the veranda.  Quatre approached her.

            "Dot?" she sat up with a start.

            "Oh, hi," she muttered, "what happened last night?"

            "I uh, just…" Quatre searched for a truth. 

            "Was too chicken to come out and say you weren't up to it?"

            "Yes. I'm sorry Dotty." He embraced emasculation once more to save face.  Dorothy smiled and wrapped her arms around him.  He held her lightly, the welts on his back still felt fresh.

            "Well, at least you're honest."

            "I couldn't lie to you, babe." 

            "Let's go for a swim."

            Quatre thought quickly. He smiled. "I can't swim."

            "Neither can I.  I just wanted to make up for last night."

            That hurt Quatre's feelings, but he kept it to himself, just as he did his bouts with Rashid.  "How bout a movie instead?"

            Dorothy thought for a second. "Indiana Jones and the Resurrected Evil?"

            "Whatever you want."

            "I'll go get dressed," Dorothy said, scurrying away.  Quatre watched her away, then went to the living room for his keys.  Rashid was there, reading the paper.  Quatre trembled.

            "Good morning, Master Quatre," he greeted with a small smile.

            "Good morning Rashid," Quatre mumbled.

            "What's the matter, master?" Master Quatre. The title sounded like mockery, humiliation, degradation: hey there, you pitiful little blob of tears, I mean, Master Quatre, don't forget you are lower than I, and to attempt to regain the dignity you once knew is a serious beating with no assurance that it will heal or you will survive. 

            "Master, I really hate it when you stare at me like you have lost your mind." Rashid said at an audible level.  Quatre had become lost in his thoughts and didn't realize he was staring Rashid down.  

            "I'm sorry—"

            "Just shut the hell up.  What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

            "Nothing," Quatre muttered, "Just getting something."

            "You mean something you should be keeping elsewhere?"

            "It's _my_ house Rashid. I have the freedom to store what I want to where I want to."

            "I didn't ask whose house it was, did I?"

            "No," Quatre replied, "but I volunteered and haven't any intention of taking it back." He snatched up his keys and left the room.  Rashid threw down his paper and followed him. Quatre was anticipating this. 

            Rashid swung at Quatre's head.  Quatre ducked and swung at Rashid, hitting him hard in his face.  It stunned him for a second, Quatre's punch to his face, giving Quatre enough time to punch him again.  Rashid blocked a third attempt, catching his fist in his palm, and swung.  Quatre dodged, and gave Rashid a quick and powerful jab in his jaw.  An enraged Rashid threw his fist at the bridge of Quatre's nose, but Quatre caught his fist just in time. Rashid pushed and pulled trying to free himself from Quatre's ironically strong grip. The two locked fists pushed hard against one another, and the men grunted in effort.  Dorothy entered the room and her eyes widened.  

            "Quatre," she said. 

            "Dorothy!" he exclaimed, distracted.  Rashid yanked his fist away and got Quatre in a head lock and turned both their backs to him.

            "Don't smart off to me again, you little bastard." Rashid muttered, crushing Quatre's neck and dropping him to the floor.  Dorothy rushed to his side.

            "Baby! Are you alright?" Quatre held his paining neck at an angle.   Dorothy helped him up.  "Did he hurt you? Babe?"

            "Naw, I'm alright, I'm fine." Quatre overcame the pain and forced his neck back into place. "Shall we?"

Dorothy took his arm and he escorted her to his Porsche.          

            The movie was grand fun for the both of them—as far as Dorothy knew.  Quatre's neck and upper back pained him terribly and he shifted throughout the picture.  He snuck and paid for some aspirin at a gas station and swallowed it dry when Dorothy looked away.  It lodged in his throat.  He swallowed and swallowed. Dorothy looked at him.

            "Quat?" 

            Quatre tried to clear his throat and swallow the pill with the regurgitated mucus. The pill slowly slid the rest of the way down his throat. "Yeah?"

            "You ok?"

            "Yeah." He put his arm around her and she lay on his chest. "How bout some laser tag?"

            Dorothy perked up. "Yeah, that sounds great!"

            The two arrived during a busy time at the family fun center.  Quatre purchased three thirty-minute games for two adults and they received their targets and guns and belts.  They were briefed and then turned loose.  Quatre took a running step, his targets slamming hard against the abrasions on his back.  He stopped and leaned against the wall.  Damn you, Rashid, damn you to hell.  Everywhere I go, I've go these God-forsaken reminders that you're waiting for me.  Well, not today, father, not today.  Quatre gathered his strength and removed himself from the wall.  He spotted a flashing target in the dark distance.  He shot it three times and the victim froze.  He looked in the mirror—and saw Rashid sneaking by, aiming a laser gun all around.  He hadn't seen Quatre.  Quatre's eyes opened wide to the angry delusion.  Rashid's eyes flashed in the disco lights and Quatre fired several times at him. It was a direct hit on his chest.  Quatre darted behind a wall, right into Rashid's path.  He shot at the evil man and got him out several time over.  Rashid ran above him.  Quatre went to the next level and disposed of him as well.  Rashid after Rashid was gotten out, but the more he defeated at this, his game, the more that seemed to appear and pose a new threat.  Quatre spied a physique in a frosty mirror. 

            "Come out and show your face, bitch!" Quatre yelled, several of his laser beams hitting the new Rashid. The new Rashid disappeared, and three more ran above him. Two streaked past behind him, and one ran by in front of him, shooting him in the chest.  Quatre cried out as if the shot had hurt him.  But it did, his soul lied, it did hurt Quatre, and don't _ever_ let anyone hurt you, Quatre.  Don't let them escape with their life, especially Rashid, Rashid must be punished, he must be punished, he must be punished.  Beat him, Quatre, beat him as he never beat you before.  Quatre at that point became quite possessed and began running through the dark, screaming out to Rashid and getting out any and everyone.  Small children cried and their parents complained, but Quatre wasn't really breaking any rules, so the staff couldn't do anything.

Quatre was losing his mind.

            "I'll get you, Rashid! I'm right here! Come out, damn you! Don't make me have to come find you!" He yelled over and over again.  One Rashid kept getting missed. He could tell that Rashid was the sly one.  The slick Rashid was on the second level in one motion, and so was Quatre.  The Rashid had disappeared. 

            "Where are ya, come out and fight me like a man." Quatre muttered.  The figure slinked by in the grayness of the second level.  Quatre fired, but missed, feeling all around that burning eyes were upon him.  He looked back, hurting his neck and dodged out of the way of  the sly Rashid's aim by a few inches.  He shot several dozen random shots, none hitting his nemesis.  Rashid vanished and a death-like silence deafened him.  He held his breath.  

            Then, in a one quarter second, Rashid whipped around dead in Quatre's face, his eyes star-white with heathenish fury and hit Quatre five time with the laser.  Quatre choked on his breath and fell back, slamming the back of his neck on the corner of a wall.  Electricity tore down his back and the black of the misty gray laser room arena became a void.


	4. Truth

            The IVs irritated Quatre's hand and he stirred from a dizzy slumber.  Dorothy was upright in a chair nearby, asleep.  He could remember absolutely nothing about how he'd gotten to the hospital and what happened that was so severe that he needed to be there.  Heero strolled in with a bag of fast food. Dorothy heard him come in and woke up.

            "Oh, thanks." She muttered.  Heero just nodded hi 'your welcome' and sat down next to Quatre.  They both suddenly noticed he was conscious.

            "Oh, Quat, honey, you're awake!" Dorothy cried, dropping her food and hugging him. Quatre didn't try to hug her back.

            "I didn't know those lasers packed such a punch," Heero said quietly, "Sorry about that, Quatre."

            Quatre didn't feel like expressing to Heero that he forgave him.  There wasn't any need to forgive Heero.  Heero didn't do anything.  Rashid was the one that injured him, not Heero.

            "Quatre, can you hear us?" Dorothy asked, frightened when he didn't respond verbally.  Quatre nodded.  

            "Then why don't you say anything?" she demanded.  Quatre shrugged.  He sighed.  

            "You must be tired," Dorothy guessed.

            "After a four hour nap? I doubt it." Heero refuted.  I've been out for four hours, Quatre thought.

            "Quatre, the doctors said that you dislocated a disk of cartilage in your upper spine.  They popped it back into place, but they mentioned that there was also some other minor damage to it, damage that could cause a lot of pain.  Did Rashid really hurt you?"

            Yes, Dorothy, so much. "No."

            "Are you sure?"

            I seriously thought he was going to kill me, Dot. "Positive."

            "You have to wear a neck brace for two months and no work," Heero added.

            Quatre sighed.  Rashid handled most of the business anyway.  Heero gave Dorothy a 'give me a minute' gesture.  Dorothy looked offended at first, but stepped out for a soda.

            Heero looked hard at Quatre. "Why would Dorothy ask if Rashid hurt you?"

            Quatre acted as if he didn't hear.  Heero leaned over in his face.

            "You still with me?"

            Quatre gave an affirmative groan.

            "Did Rashid hurt you?"

            He did _this,_ didn't he? Quatre thought.  Heero walked around to the other side of Quatre's cot and back again.  He walked to the end of the bed and looked down at his friend.  He pulled the sheets down.  Quatre snatched them back up to his neck.  Heero stood tall with natural authority.  "What are you hiding, Quatre Rababer Winner?"

            Quatre still didn't reply.  He held the covers tight to his chin, even though it hurt his neck.  Heero looked at him harder.  

            "Don't hold out on me, Winner. You know I know everything."

            "Why don't you seem to get the gist I don't want you around if you know so goddamn much?"

            "I know you don't want me around, hell, nobody does.  I'm just trying to help _your_ ass.  Get it together."

            "You've got some nerve, showing up here, insisting that there's something wrong when you really just don't know what the hell is going on.  Just get out."

            "When Quatre Rababer Winner tells a good friend to 'get the hell out', there is definitely something very wrong."

            "Well, I've got news for you: the old Quatre Rababer Winner has officially been nuked and the new Quatre Winner reigns supreme."

            "With a neck brace?"

            "_Get out_!" Quatre screamed, elevating his upper body.  Heero, not the least bit intimidated, said nothing and walked slowly out.  Seconds later, Dorothy came in quietly.

            "Quatre, why did Heero just storm out?"

            "Who gives a hot shit? I don't care if the bastard wants to abandon me."

            "Quatre what is wrong with you?"

            "I don't know, girl, I'm just having one of those days; you know, get shot down, practically break your neck, and then get totally pissed off by a dear bitch-friend." 

            "Who the _hell_ are you calling a bitch?" Dorothy demanded, getting angry.

            "Not you, foolish woman—"

            "Don't talk to me like that! I'm trying to be your friend and help you get through, but if you're going to act like a spoiled brat—"

            Quatre jumped out of bed, furious, and hollered at Dorothy.  "How dare you call me a spoiled brat! I'm not spoiled! I'll have you know Rashid doesn't do a goddamn thing for me! I cook my food, I buy my clothes, and I do what he says! He's my father! I love him! I respect him! He's the only one that cares about me, and you don't understand!"

            "_Quatre_, what are you talking about?" she screamed back.

            He slapped her very hard. "_Don't you scream at me bitch or I'll give you something to scream about!" _Quatre's eyes filled with tears and he began to cry and cry and cry.  He fell to the floor and lay there, bawling.

            "I'm hurt! Help! Help! Help me, God, help!"

            Heero was comfortable and in his pajamas when Relena alerted him that Quatre had been admitted into the emergency psychiatric ward.  He hid his reluctance to go behind a concerned façade and quick actions. 

            Outside Quatre's room and down the hall, Dorothy sat hunched over, hugging herself.  She met Heero and Relena with a crimson face that contrasted against her alabaster neck.  There was some sort of purpleness on her cheek.  She hugged Relena and cried in her arms.  Heero peeked in through a peephole.  Quatre was strapped to his bed, passed out from the exhaustion of crying.

            "Hello, I'm Doctor Sam Norse." A professional-looking man in a lab coat with thin glasses greeted them, shaking hands with Heero.

            "How is he?" Heero asked quietly.

            "Well," the doctor said with a sigh, "there's good news and bad news."

            All three hearts stopped. "What's the bad news?" Dorothy asked.

            "Mr. Winner suffered a mental breakdown."

            Dorothy and Relena gasped. "Why?"

            "Different things cause problems for different people.  In Mr. Winner's case, it was likely the enormous workload."

            "No," Dorothy argued, "Quatre was always very careful about stress. I would never believe it was stress."

            "In that case, another possible scenario is emotional trauma.  I myself believe that Mr. Winner maybe or may have been subject to some pretty severe abuse for an extended period of time."

            "Why do you say that?" Relena jumped in.

            "To be blunt, Quatre's body is wrecked.  When we examined him, we were surprised that he was alive.  He has a couple of ribs with slight fractures, irregular heart rhythm, weak immunity, digestive problems, and an ulcer, not to mention dozens upon dozens of lacerations and contusions and bruises on the skull.  It's because of these injuries that we think Mr. Winner may be the victim of some violent abuse.  Do any of you know who could be doing this?"  


	5. Dorothy

            "Mr. Winner," a voice cut through Quatre's surreal reality and poked at his ears.  "Mr. Winner, can you hear me?"

            Leave me alone, God, it's too late, Quatre said, he didn't know if it was out loud or to himself, or in his mind.  He looked around. Damn them all, they interrupted my peace. 

            "Mr. Winner, my name is Lt. Stan Smiley. I was called here on a possible abuse call.  I have a couple of questions to ask you."

            Quatre's heart stopped. This was it. This was what he'd never had the courage to do. Could he turn Rashid in? Should he? No, I can't, he's my father. How could I even think of such a thing? 

            "Mr. Winner, has anyone carried out a threat of physical harm to you?"

            Rashid didn't threat; he just did.

            "No," was an honest answer.

            "Has anyone ever harmed you?"

            "No."

            "How did you get all these injuries?"

            This guy was asking too many questions. "I fell down some stairs."

            "You must have fallen some flights because you have injuries consistent with a gang beating."

            "Yeah, I did."

            "Why didn't you call for help?"

            "I was fine."

            The officer paused, thinking of more questions.  Quatre looked away.

            "How many times have you fallen down the stairs?"

            "A lot."

            "Are you under stress?"

            "Yes."

            "Alright." The officer scribbled some notes. "May ask why you keep falling down the steps?"

            "I get pre-occupied while I'm walking.  Before I know it, there the steps are."

            "Hnnn," the officer gave Quatre a suspicious look, but Quatre was knocking on the door to his dream world.

            "Thank you Mr. Winner."

            Quatre didn't respond.  The officer stepped out. Dorothy had sent Heero and Relena home the previous night and was there early the next morning to see Quatre.  She jumped up at the sight of the investigator.

            "What did he say?"

            "He needs to take some serious stress management classes. Other than that, the healing process is going to be long, but he'll be fine after a while." The officer stooped.

            "That's it?" anger fused with Dorothy's lungs.

            "That's all he said.  I gathered he wasn't telling me something, but I don't know what it was, and he wouldn't tell me, so there was nothing I could do."

            Dorothy sighed heavily. "Thank you, officer."

            The officer nodded and was on his way.  Dorothy went into Quatre's room.

            "Quat?" He didn't respond.

            "Honey?" Still no response.

            "Quatre, the officer said you said you were having stress problems.  Is that true?"

            "Yes." Quatre said flatly, looking at her.

            "But your so careful not to get too stressed, you always have been."

            "I'm not that careful, there didn't used to be a lot of stress. Now there is."

            Dorothy was at a loss. "You have got to take some classes. This is dangerous. Please take some stress management classes, Quatre, this is hurting your health."

            "Okay Dorothy," he smiled softly. "I will."

            Dorothy smiled back.

            Quatre was to be released the next week.  Until then, Dorothy stayed at Quatre's house and kept up the household as best she could and left business to Rashid.  She kept a careful eye on Rashid. He hurt Quatre once. He could do it again. Or he could have already done it a million and one times. She was reading in the study one morning when Rashid approached her from her left.

            "Good morning, Miss Catalonia," he greeted tenderly.

            She jumped on her guard, but hid it behind a smile. "Good morning Rashid." 

            He extended a bouquet of flowers to her. " I apologize for yelling at you some nights ago. Please accept my apology."

            "I forgive you," Dorothy said, startled by his means.  He took a seat beside her.  She went back to her book.  He watched her. She felt it. She looked over at him slowly. He smiled.  He had a smile that looked so sincere, it made him look almost Winner-rich, a contemporary term for a well-mannered or well-dressed individual.  She smiled a small smile back and went back to her book.  He touched her hair and played with it.  She looked in his direction, but disregarded his actions though she thought they were strange.  He massaged her back with one hand. When she realized what he was doing, she stood up and faced him.

            He cut off anything she was about to say. "I've got to go to work, I'll see you later this afternoon." He took her by her biceps and kissed her neck, and made a speedy exit.  Dorothy was left standing in the middle of the study in shock.  Rashid…wanted her.  

            That evening, Rashid was acting even stranger. Dinner was served, and the servants had returned home.  Dorothy was wearing her comfortable outfit—a pair of short shorts and a low-cut spaghetti-strap that flaunted her fabulous figure.  She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and still wore her headband. She didn't wait for Rashid to start eating.  He didn't seem to mind.  Upon entering the dining room, she noticed something strange: the room was dim and candle lit and there were two Italian dinners on either side of a smaller a table.  Rashid must have had a date in this dining room. She must have been in the wrong dining room.  She turned to leave, but ran into Rashid's chest.

            "Oh, I'm sorry, clumsy," she stopped. Rashid was wearing a white shirt and dress vest and dress pants and shoes. 

            "Hungry?" he mumbled.

            "Oh, I was just—"

            "In time? Yes you are." He turned her around and guided her to her place at the table.  This was awkward.

            "What's with the special eats?" she asked shakily.

            "They're not nearly as special as you," he refuted the question.

            "Aww," Dorothy blushed, "and I thought you didn't like me!"

            "I love you Dorothy." Rashid said with a devilish grin.

            "Oh, stop."

            "You are special. And I know how to treat a woman like you.  Your needs, your wants, you, all of you," his eyes traveled down her body.  Dorothy stopped being flattered and stood up from the table. 

            "Well, that was a great dinner, Rashid, and I hope your date enjoys it as much as I did."

            "You are my date, Dorothy."

            "No, cuz see, Quatre's my boyfriend, and I'm not going to take advantage of the fact that he's lying in the psychiatric ward unable to distinguish between reality and delusion."

            "Why not?"

            "Because I'm not in to hurting him like you are!"

            "What?" Rashid stood tall and slammed his fist on the table. He pointed accusingly at Dorothy.  "What did that boy tell you?"

            "Nothing as a matter of fact," fear began to set in, but she kept her cool, "but I'm watching you, Rashid, don't think that after what you did I don't watch you—"

            "What did I do?" Rashid asked quietly.

            "You _hurt_ him Rashid, you know you did.  You threw down by his neck."

            "I was punishing him for what he said about you. Haven't you heard what the servants have been talking about?"

            "I don't humor myself with petty gossip!" 

            Rashid shook his head and went to Dorothy.  He took her hands.

            "He doesn't love you, Dorothy, he doesn't even want you anymore. He was going to break it off sometime this week."

            "You're lying," Dorothy whimpered, her eyeballs heating with brokenness.

            "I would never lie to you, Dorothy.  I swear. He told some servants he can't stand you anymore, and he keeps thinking about the way your eyebrows used to look and it irks him. But I thought you were lovely before as well as now.  I can take care of you Dorothy, and satisfy you the way a woman should be satisfied."

            "No," she whispered, lip trembling with the threat of tears.

            "I'm sorry Dorothy, I tried to reason with him, tell him you loved him, but he wouldn't listen.  He was too hung up on Relena.  He stalked her, you know.  They had him in an institution—"

            "_Stop it!_" Dorothy screamed, "please! Just please be quiet!"

            "He'll hurt you, Dorothy, he's hurt himself before, and he'll hurt you."

            The incident at he hospital. "He didn't mean…I mean…he won't—"

            "I'm sorry Dorothy. Quatre is crazy. He hurts himself and I beg him stop, but he won't, even if I act all pissed. It's ok. Don't cry."

            "I'm not crying!" Dorothy screamed, tears escaping her eyes and wetting shirt.  Rashid wrapped his arms around her.  She pushed him away and started away.  He pulled her back.

            "I really care about you, Dot."

            Dorothy twisted her wrist loose and ran up to her room and cried and cried.


	6. Prisoner

            When Dorothy woke up, she couldn't stretch.  She couldn't even open her mouth.  She opened her eyes wide.  She was not in the room she'd fallen asleep in.  The room didn't even have any windows.  It was dimly lit, in front of the bed was an old dresser with an antique mirror, and that was the only other furniture.  Dorothy had terrible cramps in her thighs and lower back.  Each of her hands was cuffed to a post and her feet were strapped to the footboard.  She was confused and terrified.  She just knew Rashid had done this.  That bastard was dangerous. She at least tried to move around and see if there was anything she could reach for (though she didn't know how she'd reach for it), or some weakness in the cuffs.  There weren't any obvious ones.  She panicked. How long had she been in there? She expected Rashid to come through the door at anytime, just like in the movies.  The falseness of the comfort was too soon realized—she lay there for minutes, then half hour, and then hours began to pass. She was getting more and more uncomfortable, hunger and the need to eliminate set in.  She sighed heavily and twisted her body in an attempt to stretch.  She still hadn't opened her mouth.  It felt like two or so hours had passed.  Rashid finally came in some minutes later with a mug and a straw sticking out of it.  He smiled his gentlemanly smile.

            "Feeling well?"  Dorothy didn't know what to say or moan or what have you.  She was utterly shocked that a man that seemed so devoted to Quatre had done this to anyone, dear to Quatre or not.  She looked at him with astonished eyes and fearful emotions.

            "I certainly hope you're hungry," Rashid leaned over and pulled off a tiny piece of the duct tape that held her mouth shut off in the middle of her lips.  He poked the straw into her mouth.  She didn't sip.

            "Come now, I just made it for you this morning," he mused. 

            And it's probably seasoned with white oleander, she thought. 

            "Come on, Dorothy, you've got to keep your strength up.  Quatre won't be happy if he finds out you didn't eat well while he was gone."  Dorothy still didn't sip. 

            "How about if I taste a little first?" Dorothy didn't respond, she just looked at him with the same astonished expression.  Rashid put the mug to his lips and she heard him take a big gulp.  He offered it to her again.  She took a long sip and stopped.  He pulled the straw away.  She spit the broth in his face as hard as she could through the straw-sized opening.  He jumped up, spilling the hot liquid all over her, and yelled,

            "Fine! Don't eat! You will starve before I feed you again!"  he slapped on another layer of duct tape before he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.  She held her breath and listened hard for his footsteps.  They were going away, in the direction her head was facing, possibly up a flight of stairs.  She didn't know what good that knowledge was right then, but she prayed for the opportunity to use it.  She heard a squeak and something prickle her skin.  She looked down and saw a rat chewing through her shirt, trying to get all the broth it could.  She screeched and heaved her self up, tossing the rat onto the dresser.  She breathed hard.  She felt something moving around underneath her.  She elevated her back and another rat scurried from beneath her.  She tried to push it off the bed, but it almost bit her so the prayed it would just leave.

            Down in the hospital psychiatric ward, Ambassador Peacecraft called for Quatre Winner.  He'd gotten better in the two days since she'd last seen him.  He picked up the phone in his room.

            "Hello?" he showed a hint of cheer.

            "Quatre?"

            "Hey Lena," he beamed, "how are you?"

            "Just fine. You sound so much better!"

            "Thanks. I feel a lot better."

            "Is Dorothy around?"

            "No," Quatre's tone saddened.

            "Where is she?"

            "At my place I guess.  She didn't come visit me today and it's getting late."

            "I wonder what's keeping her."

            "I don't know.  She didn't call me either."

            "I'm sorry. Why don't you call her?"

            "I can't make any out going calls while I'm in the ward."

            "Hm. You want me to call?" 

            "If you want," Quatre said, hoping she would.

            "I don't really have time right now, but I will later tonight or tomorrow."

            "Ok, Lena, thanks." Quatre hung up the phone.  At least Rashid won't hurt Dorothy. She doesn't play that.  She goes to the police. Unlike me.

            Dorothy stayed awake as long as she could but eventually slipped into involuntary slumber.  She woke up to a rat nibbling on her ear.

            "MMM!!!" she screamed, snapping her head around.  The rat fell off the side.  She breathed hard and almost started crying.  Rashid came in.  He didn't have any food, which was really beginning to need, all he had was a sour expression.  He started to undress.

            "I for give you, but I cannot let you go unpunished." He said simply. He positioned himself on top of her.  Dorothy struggled underneath him helplessly, wailing for help through her nose and throat.  Rashid unbuttoned Dorothy's shorts.  She screamed and cried and wailed as he punished her.


	7. Lies

            Relena pushed the QUATRE button on her speed dial and put the receiver to her ear.  The ride from the gate to the hotel where they were holding the press conference was a few minutes—long enough for her to harass Dorothy about not going to see poor Quatre in two days. There was a ring, then a second, then a third.  Rashid picked up the phone.

            "Winner Residence. This is Rashid."

            "Rashid, hi, it's Relena. May I speak to Dorothy please?"

            "She's stepped out."

            "Oh, does she have her cell phone?"

            "No, she went to see Master Quatre."

            "Oh, ok. Well, I didn't really want anything, just tell her I called."

            "Will do."

            Relena hung up.  She looked at her watch.  It was nearly nine o'clock were Quatre and Dorothy were.  Something wasn't right.

            The press conference lasted a while longer that she had anticipated, but her chauffeur waited patiently.  She got into the front seat of her car.  Heero grinned at her from the driver's side.

            "Thanks for coming to get me, babe." She kissed him.

            "No prob," he shrugged.  They drove to a hotel.  Heero walked Relena to her room before adjourning to his own.  Relena called Quatre.  

            "Hello," Quatre sounded just as happy as ever.

            "Hi, Quat," Relena smiled at the sound of his happiness. "Still feeling good?"

            "Yeah, glad you called.  I'm actually feeling great.  Did you call Dorothy?"

            "I did before the conference, but she'd gone to see you."

            Quatre paused. "Today?"

            "Yes."

            "She never came today.  I was waiting and waiting and she never came."

            "But Rashid told me she went to see you when I called."

            "She never came." The words began to sting Relena's heart. Quatre was getting worried as well.

            "That's three days Quatre.  She could be declared missing."

            Quatre's heart pained. "But…where in the world could she be?"

            "I don't know."

            "I'm calling the house. Something's not right."

            "I thought you couldn't make outgoing calls."

            "I'm out of the psych ward. I'll get right back to you."

            Quatre hung up. Relena did, slowly.

            Quatre waited three rings. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Answering machine. He hung up and called again, almost dialing the wrong number in a panic. Four rings. Five. Someone picked up. He breathed half of a relieved sigh, when the voice greeted him:

            "The number you have reached has been changed to a non-published number.  The number you have reached has been changed to a non-published number."

            The message repeated about seven times before Quatre slowly hung up the phone.  _What in the _hell_ is going on?_  Quatre dialed Relena.

            "Hello?"

            "Relena, I've got to call the police.  My number has been changed. And I didn't change it."

            "Wait Quatre, let's not jump to conclusions."

            "Relena, I'm scared for Dorothy. She hasn't come. She hasn't called. Nobody can get her. And now my number's changed. I've got to get help."

            "Okay, I think I'm going to come, too."

            "Oh, no you don't—"

            "Hush. Dorothy is my friend, and so are you. If you're suffering, so am I. I'll catch a shuttle tomorrow."

            "Okay Relena," Quatre accepted with a smile. "Thanks."

            "It's no problem, really."

            Quatre called the police.  They promised to have an officer at the residence within fifteen minutes.  

            The doorbell rang at the Winner estate.  Rashid answered it. 

            "Yes?" 

            "Good evening, I'm officer Robert Quaeler. I'm here on behalf of Quatre Winner. Is anything wrong?"

            "No, no there most certainly isn't. I don't know why he continuously does this sort of thing. I swear he calls me in the middle of the night and threatens my safety as well as my life.  He's crazy. This isn't even his house."

            "I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr…"

            "Winner. Quatre Winner. The psycho that keeps calling me thinks he is me."

            "Alright, we'll look into those calls, sir."

            "Thank you."

            "Have a good night, sir."

            "You too."


	8. Freedom

            Quatre called Relena. Heero picked up.

            "Quat?"

            "Hey, man, how'd you know it was me?"

            "Caller I.D. How you ok?"

            "Yeah, I'm sorry I wigged out like that. I was outta line."

            "It's ok. I should have left you alone. Besides. You weren't yourself."

            "I know. I'm still sorry."

            "Consider yourself forgiven."

            "Thanks a lot." Quatre turned serious. "Heero, they're going to release me."

            "Quat, that's great. Did Relena tell you we're going to swing by in a few days?"

            "I haven't heard from or seen Dorothy in five days. I called the police. They went by my house and they said that Quatre Winner owned that house, not me, and if I call my own house again, they will arrest me on a harassment charge.  Nobody will believe me because I was in the psych ward.  Please Heero. I just know something awful is happening."

            "I can't get there right away, Quat. We'll be there in a few days."

            "_Heero,_"

            "The earliest I can get there is day after next. I checked. That's when the next shuttle for earth is leaving."  

            Quatre sighed. "Ok, Heero. I'll talk to you later."

            "Gotcha.  Don't worry, Quat. I'm sure Dorothy is fine."

            "I hope so." Quatre hung up. He nibbled on his nails, looking anxiously out the window into the distance.  

            Dorothy prayed in the depths of sleep.  She opened her eyes. A ghastly face with sunken eyes and a grayness across the mouth stared back. The figure wore her clothes, but they were big and holey on it. Dorothy's heart beat leaped into her throat and she felt nauseous.  She slowly realized she was looking into a mirror, and the white, malnourished ghost was her.  Tears came to her eyes. Rashid had left her to watch herself fester, placing a mirror above her bed that stared her down.  She was still hand cuffed to the bed, filthy and smelly, and rats were beginning to rely on her clothing for their food.  She'd barely the strength to hope anymore.  Dorothy suddenly began thrashing about in frustration of life.  She opened her eyes, breathing hard, and really feeling how weak she was. She looked at her reflection. Great, if it wasn't bad enough Rashid had chained her to a bed and gave her a little water every other day and punished her if she refused, _now_ she was hallucinating. She could have sworn her reflection had moved a little to the side, a couple of inches at best.  She tried to blink it away. It wouldn't blink away. It was real.  She threw her torso at the side of the room opposite of the door. She heard the bed scoot.  A sudden hope filled her with warmth and she threw her torso again at the same spot, clinging to this prayer that seemed to grow more and more tangible.  She scooted the bed again. This time, the mirror shook. She had no idea what Rashid had used to hold that thing up, but whatever it was probably wasn't very secure.  She scooted over more and more.  The mirror began to sound more like it was going to come down. Now it was a race against gravity. The mirror was wide, and if it came down, it was likely to crash into a million tiny shards on her.  She would have to get over as fast as God would let her.  She had nothing to lose any more.  She scooted over as fast as she could, throwing herself about in the bed.  The mirror shook looser and looser.  Dorothy was at angle where she could see what held the mirror.  Duct tape.  

            Horrified, Dorothy scooted even harder, her energy quickly depleting.  She was, for the most part, out of the mirror's way, should it fall.  Then, an amazing thing happened.  

            The mirror swung down.

            A muffled scream tore out of Dorothy's throat through the duct tape and she squeezed her eyes shut. The mirror's frame slammed against her left wrist cuff and shattered it, bounced off the post, and secured right back on the ceiling.  Dorothy opened her eyes wide.  Her hand was at her side. She stretched it wearily around.  It instantly flew at her other cuff, prying at it with all her might.  No luck.  She slipped her fingernail into the keyhole and shuffled it around.  Something clicked and she was overcome with joy. She ripped the tape that circled her head twice.  She screeched and panted wearily.  

            She reached for the cuffs around her ankles. Not only were they cuffs, they were shackles.  She pulled herself up and stood up on the bed and looked down.  Two separate combination locks attached the chains to the legs of the bed.  Her joy sank in to hopelessness.  The bureau, she realized. She sat back up and carefully stepped over the footboard.  She had to stretch, but reached the bureau and opened a drawer. Just some old clothes. She shuffled them around. Nothing more. She opened the next drawer. Empty. She felt around.  Still nothing.  She opened the bottom drawer. Nothing. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She picked it back up and tried to break the combination, feeling for when the gears on the lock tightened. One of the numbers for her left foot seemed to be thirty-three.  She tried again, remembering her mischievous childhood  at Romefeller. To her surprise, the lock popped open.  She gasped.  The door swung open and Rashid stepped in.  He looked at her with fearsome anger.  He dove for her and lifted her high by her shoulders. 

            "Ahh! Help! Help me! Oh! Help me!" she screamed as Rashid attempted to beat her into submission.  The doorbell rang. Rashid stopped mid-slap. He flashed Dorothy an evil look and yanked the sheets from under her, bounding her with them.  He duct taped a pillow to her face.  She struggled. She heard Rashid slam the door behind him and take the stairs.  She struggled again, feeling less and less air getting through the pillow and into her lungs….

            Rashid opened the door.  There stood Quatre.  


	9. Home

"Master Quatre!" Rashid exclaimed, "I thought you were…I mean…so glad to see you back on your feet---"

"Where's Dorothy?" Quatre demanded quietly, ignoring all other peeves for the moment.

"Pardon?" Rashid pretended not to understand.

"Don't think the police never got back to me, Rashid. Mind you I don't know what's been happening around here, but I'm home now and I demand to know where Dorothy is."

"Quatre, did they let you out too early?" Rashid dared mock him.  Quatre unhooked his neck brace and held it in front of him.  He stepped inside.

"Where is she, Rashid?"

"I'm calling the hospital." Rashid turned his back to Quatre. Quatre took nearby floor lamp and smashed it over the nape of Rashid's neck. Rashid dropped the phone in the middle of the number to the hospital.  Quatre dropped the lamp and his neck and head pained horribly.  It was more intense than when he'd snuck out of the hospital.  The medicine he popped before he left's drowsy effects ate at him. He fought it and ran up the stairs as fast as he could without hurting himself. He reached the top of the stairs he told the officer he kept falling down.  He felt light headed.  He stepped into his and Dorothy's room.  Her stuff was gone and she wasn't there.  Quatre felt drowsier.  He gathered himself and yanked opened the closet. No sign of her things.  He pulled out the things in the closet, digging deep into he-didn't-know-what.  A vent. There was a vent at the bottom of this closet. It used to be an air conditioner, but it broke down and they replaced it—Quatre's father did, anyway, not Rashid.  Tears laced his eyes, but he held them back from pouring down.  He finally found it and stood up, lightheadedness almost knocking him over.  He hunched down again, mouth to the vent:

"Dorothy! Dorothy, can you hear me?" he called, not realizing how tired he sounded.  Sure enough, Dorothy heard him, but bound by sheets and having a pillow duct-taped to her face impaired her ability to call back.  She moaned into the pillow and squirmed hopelessly, tears making their way from her eyes to the cotton that separated her from her air.  Quatre couldn't hear anything.

"Dorothy!" he called once more.  Dorothy cried and cried.  Quatre heard that and listened carefully to the way it echoed.  To his horror, she was in the basement-shelter, underground.  He jumped up, and lightheadedness overcame him and he ran into the door panel.

"Ah," he groaned, his headache getting worse, much worse.  His neck was shaken, too.  He clenched his head and receded from the door.  The room spun violently, and he fell on the bed.  Everything kept going around and around. Rashid's face soon covered the middle of the whirlpool and grew slowly, bigger and bigger.  Quatre felt nauseous and felt a blackout coming on.  He sat up and threw up all over Rashid.

He turned out to be really there.   Quatre covered his mouth.  A disgusted Rashid drew away.  Quatre jumped up, shoved Rashid over a short chest and bolted out, slamming the door behind him.  He hurried down the steps, nearly making the story he told the officer truth.  He hit the bottom of the staircase and stopped for a second to stop the room from spinning and catch his breath.  He heard Rashid thundering to the stairs.  Quatre took a few quick, unsure steps, and then threw himself into a sprint.  Around the stairs and beside them, he went, down the hall and through the middle of the ballroom and then through the reception room.  Rashid caught a glimpse of Quatre as he flew through the entrance to the reception room.  Quatre took a sharp turn and shot out onto the veranda balcony and hurried down the steps.  He no longer listened for Rashid's oncoming footsteps.  He ignored his drowsiness.  He flew a few tenths of a mile around the side of the magnificent estate and finally hit the stables.  Disregarding the harnesses and such, Quatre mounted Dorothy's birthday present (he had yet to give her), an Arabian Stallion named Blaze he'd bought from a rancher.

"Get up!" Quatre held tight to Blaze's mane, and Blaze jumped over the door to his stall and galloped out of the stables and across a less visible piece of lawn into a forest.  He didn't ride deep into the unknown, but the sunlight was strained in the place he stopped.  In front of him appeared a door to nowhere.  It was in fact a door that led down to Instructor H's secret lab.  Since its abandon, Quatre used it as a place to get away from Rashid.  Quatre went for the handle, similar to the kind used on the doors of fast food restaurants.  The door didn't budge.  Quatre was very, very angry.  There is a fine line between discipline and offence.  Nobody knew where the getaway was except Quatre, so he left it unlocked, so when he needed to getaway, he could concentrate on his emotions, not on a lock.  Rashid crossed the line.  Anger made him lightheaded and he grasped his temples and breathed heavily, leaning against the rusty door.  He thought he hallucinated another horse coming his way.  He gasp and his head snapped around into Rashid's eyes.  Rashid's eyes burned and he savagely beat his horse to lessen the time getting to Quatre and expand the time he had to conceal his doom.  This is it, Rashid thought, readying himself, today is the day I show the rich little bastard what it's like to be neglected in a time of crisis and unappreciated.  Quatre seemed to feel his thoughts and yanked and yanked the door handle, his heart telling him he could do it, his mind pleading with him to stop and get help.  Dorothy, both were screaming at him, Dorothy you fool. Try harder.

"AHH!"  Quatre backed up a few feet, ran up and karate-kicked the door open, shattering the handle and led the horse quickly down a dark flight of steel steps.

One of Quatre's hands traveled just as quickly as the rest of him down the wall in search of a light switch, and the other held the horse steady.  Quatre felt his way around a corner, unsure of whether or not Rashid had seen him.  The texture of the ground went form rock to metal and Quatre ran his groin into a waist-high steel fence.  Wrong turn, he was over looking the opening the Instructor would use to fix his Gundam.  He felt back around to the other side of the corner.  Rashid entered the doorway and was making his way cautiously down the stairs.

"Hey!" he yelled at Quatre.  Quatre bounded past a room he used for his guests and into the one that he usually slept in, barley pulled the horse's rump in, then shut and locked it.

Dorothy was a pile of rumpled sheets that barely caught the corner of his eye as he bounded past the filthy guest room he never used.  She was passed out from not being able to breathe.  Rashid peeked in on her.  She was there, just as he'd expected, and still bound.  Quatre had gone right past her in his own panic.  Rashid waited patiently for Quatre to exit his room and enter Dorothy's, lurking in the shadows right in front of his door.

Behind his door, Quatre panted and heaved and tried to stop himself from hysterical crying. No you don't, his heart told him, there will be plenty of time for a mental breakdown _after_ you save Dot.  He looked around his room.  His heart jumped in his throat and he covered his eyes and prayed the horribleness away, sliding down to the floor with his back on the door.

There was a huge picture of Rashid on top of Dorothy, who was chained to the bed, white, anguished face shedding tears that gathered under her ears and dripped into little pools of Rashid's sweat.  He was obviously forcing her.  All over Quatre's walls in alternating red and black spray paint were cryptic messages that chilled Quatre in the silent dimness of the room.  QUATRE RABABER WINNER IS A WHORE. EVIL LITTLE RICH BOY. HOW DARE HE CALL HIMSELF A MAN HE CAN'T EVEN TAKE A BEATING LIKE A MAN THE LITTLE PIE-FACE HEATHEN DOROTHY IS MINE DOROTHY IS MINE DOROTHY IS MINE DOROTHY IS MINE AND SHE WILL ALWAYS BE MINE AND NOT QUATRES ILOVEYOUDOROTHYILOVEYOUDOROTHYILOVEDORY                                   ILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROHTYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYILOVEDOROTHYSHE LOVES ME SHE LOVES MELOVEHERILOVEHERILOVEHERILOVHERILOVEHERILOVEHERILOVHER SHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESMESHELOVESME……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Quatre's head overflowed and he had a breakdown.

So did Sir Isaac Newton and he turned out to be one of the most celebrated geniuses of all time.

So now a combination of grief, anger, physical pain, stress, and heartbreak was working Quatre in ways he didn't think possible.

Quatre wasn't crying. He stood up, completely emotionless, like Heero (more or less, we don't need two Heeros, right fans?) and opened his door, leading his horse out to the other room where Dorothy was bound.  Rats tried to chew through the sheets.  He ripped the pillow off her face with one jerk, pulling out a little bit of her hair.  She gasped for air, but didn't wake.  He untied the sheets from around her and her skinny, pale body relaxed in his arms.  He turned for the horse, to guide it to her bedside.  Rashid stood in the doorway, looking more insane than ever.

"She's mine, bitch." Rashid muttered, and slammed the door.  The mirror crashed down on Quatre.


	10. Chase

            Quatre fought back a lump in his throat when he saw the horse laying there, surrounded by shards of glass.  He left Dorothy on the bed and hid behind the door.  Rashid opened it up seconds later.

            "Ha! Get up!" Quatre yelled.  Sure enough, the horse jumped up, flinging the remnants of the mirror on top of Rashid. Quatre snatched up Dorothy and mounted.  The horse ran right over Rashid, a cry spilling from his throat beneath his master.  Blaze hurried back up the stairs taking several at a time.  At the top, Quatre dismounted and wedged the door half-in and half-out the frame, making it difficult for someone as big as Rashid to squeeze out.  He jumped back onto Blaze and Dorothy woke up suddenly.  Quatre, who was wearing a gray shirt and loose black jeans, was her knight in shining armor.  

            "Quatre!" she cried, holding onto him.  They galloped all the way into the house.  

            "Dorothy, call the police," he ordered, dismounting and locking the door behind them.  Dorothy tried to get off, but fell to the floor hard. 

            "Oh, Dorothy," he reached for her, but fell, too. 

            "Honey, your neck," Dorothy muttered. For a moment, they rested.  Dorothy pushed the top half of her body above the floor.

            "Food," she muttered. Rashid smashed a hole in the thick patio glass with his fist.  Quatre snapped up, scattering pain up and down his back, and took Dorothy's hand.  Rashid smashed another hole through the glass; one more would let him in.  Quatre doubled back with Dorothy back through the reception room into the ballroom and ran back around to the front of the main stairs and toward the door that was about fifty feet away.  He turned the knob.  It was locked. He turned the lock and tried to open it.  It didn't open.  Rashid broke through the glass.  Quatre and Dorothy gasped and backed against the door.  Quatre rammed it, hurting himself more than the door.  Rashid had replaced it sometime ago with metal-enforced wood.  Quatre ran around the other side of the stairs down a corridor, Dorothy barely keeping up with him.  At the end of the corridor, Quatre opened a door that led out to the gardens—at least he tried, but the door wouldn't budge, and Quatre knew that if he tried to smash through, he'd just hurt himself.  He ran back to the beginning of the corridor.  Rashid turned the corner of the steps.  Dorothy shrieked and they doubled back, hurrying back down.  Quatre veered to the left and snatched opened up a door, revealing a staircase.  He pushed Dorothy up, Rashid's footsteps coming down the hall after them.  Dorothy just hit the low ceiling. 

            "Quatre, it's a dead end!" she screamed.

            "No!" Quatre pushed hard against the ceiling.  A door opened up into an attic.  Rashid started up the steps.  Quatre pushed Dorothy up and pulled himself up.  He waited for Rashid to be right at them before slamming the door down.  Rashid cried out and receded.  

            "Help me!" Quatre took hold of a bin full of his child hood clothes and tried to scoot it on top of the door.  Dorothy pulled and Quatre pushed.  She stepped on the door.  It bounced up.

            "Ahh!" she screeched weakly in terror, falling down.  Quatre jumped down hard and the door went down.  Dorothy was shaken. 

            "Come on, Dorothy!" Quatre pushed the bin hard over.  Dorothy pulled it over the rest of the way.  They both struggled on top of the bin and breathed hard.  Dorothy held onto Quatre's arm.  Dorothy lay against Quatre's back.  It hurt, but he let her stay; her love was worth a moment's discomfort.

            Relena fidgeted and stared blankly out the window.  Heero laid his hand on hers.  She looked into his eyes and was still.  

            "What's the matter?" he asked in a gentle voice.

            "Aren't you worried? I'm about to lose my mind. Quatre hasn't heard from Dorothy in like a week."

            "Of course I'm worried! Otherwise, I wouldn't on this plane. I'm just not about to lose my mind.  I just talked to Quat yesterday."

            "Call him now.  He should be at the hospital.  I don't think they let psych ward patients out by themselves unless they were admitted by themselves."

            Heero sighed and dialed the hospital, then Quatre's extension.  He was surprised when a woman picked up, but it wasn't Dorothy."

            "Hello?"

            "Dorothy?"

            "No, I'm sorry, this is Harriet Roberts, R.N."

            "Is this Quatre Winner's room?"

            "The man registered under that name has been missing since yesterday."

            Heero stopped.  Relena looked at him.  She shook his arm.  He looked at her but talked to the nurse.

            "What do you mean the man registered under that name? Don't you recognize Quatre Rababer Winner?"

            "I thought I did, but that guy turned out to be some psycho impersonator."

            "The sweet little blond guy?"

            "Yeah.  We didn't know what his real name was, so we just called him Quatre."

            Relena was listening now by pressing her ear against the phone and was appalled by what she heard.  Heero felt a heat rising in his throat.  

            "When did he leave?"

            "We're not sure. We searched the surrounding areas, but there was no sign of him, so we gave him up for lost."

            A horrendous anger overcame Relena and she leaned away.  

            "Okay, thank you," Heero said coldly, and hung up.  Relena flashed him and angry look.

            "What?" he demanded 

            "You weren't worried enough."

            "Fine, I was wrong." Heero muttered, not wishing to suffer humiliation and then lose the argument.  

            The shuttle arrived at the airport almost an hour later.  Heero rented a car for them and they were gone before the paparazzi could catch them.

            Quatre shook Dorothy gently and woke her from a light nap.  She opened her eyes to the window and looked into the early evening sky.  Quatre was pulling something on the wall.  A huge vent cover wriggled loose.  

            "We gotta get outta here." He grunted through neck-paining work.  Dorothy didn't move immediately.  There was a drilling noise beneath her.  Quatre whipped around and walked to her slowly.  The drilling was louder and she looked down. 

The floor crashed through. Dorothy screamed.  

            "Dorothy!" Quatre screamed, yanking her back before she went with the bin.  He hurried her over to the open vent.  She climbed in, and he after her.  He shouted to her to go this way and that, until she pushed another vent open and pulled herself up.  Quatre closed the vent tight. Dorothy hurried over and quietly closed the door and locked it.  Quatre scooted his desk in front of the door.  He didn't worry about the vent; Rashid was far too big to fit in it.  He thanked God for that.  Quatre flopped on the bed.  Dorothy started to, but went for the phone.  There was no dial tone.  She looked the phone over.  The cord was missing.

            "Oh my God Quatre," she called to him in a voice that hurt his heart, "where's the cord for the phone?"

            Quatre slowly sat up. "It's not there?"

            "No."

            "Oh, God," he lay back down.  He looked at his wall.  "The window." He muttered, getting up slowly and going for it.  He pulled back his curtains—and found himself yanking at the iron bars that kept him in.  

            "Oh, Quatre!" Dorothy whimpered.  Rashid pounded viciously on the door.   Dorothy scurried across the room into Quatre's arms.

            "_Quatre! _BANG-BANG-BANG _Quatre! I know you're in there! You can stay in there forever! Come out and face me like a man! Come out, you coward!_"

            Dorothy laid her hands on Quatre's chest from behind him and pressed her head against his back.  He closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle.


	11. Justice

            The doorbell rang several times.  Rashid stopped his pounding to make sure he heard right.  Quatre heard it that time, and his heart was at the top of his throat with thanks to God.  Rashid's footsteps cantered away from the door.  Neither Quatre nor Dorothy dared move out of sheer terror.

            Rashid stomped down the stairs in feverish annoyance.  He walked over to the door, not knowing whom to expect, but annoyed with them just the same.   He opened the door.   Heero stood there, staring Rashid down and Relena looked concerned beside him. 

Rashid was definitely not expecting them. 

            "Alright, Rashid, what the hell have you done with Quatre and Dorothy? And none of your bullshit you fed Lena over the phone!"

            "I don't know what—"

            "I thought I said no bullshit!" Heero raised his voice and pushed his way inside.  

            "Heero please, let's try to be adults about this," Relena pleaded, making a vain attempt to hold him back.  Heero turned himself loose.

            "I'm through being an adult! I'm ready to be a child! Where are they, Rashid? Where?"

            "Heero, I really don't know what you mean.  They steeped out sometime ago."

            "What did I just say about all that bullshit?!" Heero yelled, getting in Rashid's face. "Quatre was supposed to be released today, but where the hell is he? Where is he Rashid? Where's Dorothy?"

            "Mr. Yuy," Rashid came to his own defense, "I have no idea what you are talking about—"

            Heero stuck his gun in Rashid's face (classic Heero) and growled, "There is something going on here, it's hurting Quatre and _you're_ in the middle of it.  I want to know what the hell is going on."

            "Heero! Stop!" Relena pleaded, pulling at his arm.

            "Where are they, Rashid?"

            "I _told_ you, boy—"

            "Relena, call the police."

            "Heero," she started.

            "Go, Relena!" he ordered.  She let go of his arm and exited the room.  Heero kept his gun on Rashid.

            "Why don't you shoot me?" Rashid muttered.

            "You have to be brought to justice," Heero replied.

            "And if I refuse?"

            "I guess you'll just have to live with the dishonor." Heero quoted Wufei.  

            "I guess I will," Rashid backed away.  Heero stepped with him. 

            "Where do you think you're going?"

            "To create the dishonor I will have to live with." Rashid whipped around and bolted up the stairs.  Heero called after him.

            "Hey! Hey!" He ran after Rashid.  Relena just walked back into the room to see Heero and Rashid dashing up the steps. 

            "Heero!" she ran after them.  Rashid's great long legs got him up the steps in five or six leaps, but Heero only had to take two or three more.  Rashid took a rifle off the wall and pulled the hammer back.  He kicked Quatre's door.  The door cracked and the desk fell over.  Dorothy and Quatre gasped.  Heero ran at Rashid.  Rashid flipped Heero over his arm with a karate move.  Relena stood back in shock.

            "Rashid…" she muttered.

            "Don't bother me, woman!" he screamed at her, and kicked Quatre's door open.  Quatre found himself glaring into the barrel of his father's famed collector's edition 700 Series John Deere rifle. 

            "Sayonara, rich bitch!" Rashid yelled, pulling the trigger.

            "Ahh!" Heero yelled, jumping on Rashid's back with all his might and falling with him, to the floor.  The gun went off and Quatre grasped his stomach and keeled over.

            "_Quatre!_" Dorothy screamed, falling to his side.  Heero knocked the rifle out of Rashid's hands and under the bed.

            "Damn!" Rashid hollered, knocking Heero off and going for the rifle.  Heero dove on him again, ramming his head into the bedpost.  Rashid was disoriented.  Dorothy desperately tried to get Quatre up.  Heero pulled Quatre to his feet and led him out.  Relena came in and held Dorothy's hand as they led them out.  Heero dragged Quatre down the hall and the stairs, being as careful as possible as quickly as possible.  Quatre looked back at Dorothy.  She seemed as pale and weak as ever, barely hanging onto Relena as they approached the front door.  This was the end. No more abuse.  Oh my God, Quatre realized, I was abused.  And I thought it was justified punishment.  I'm so stupid.  I'm sorry Dorothy, I'm so…

            Rashid was at the top of the steps, aiming the rifle at Quatre's head.  Quatre lost all manhood.

            "Heero!" Heero jerked around.  The rifle went off.  Heero was hit in the forehead and fell off of Quatre, who was leaning on him and fell also. Relena and Dorothy screamed.  Rashid aimed for Quatre, who cried over Heero's body.  He pulled back the hammer.

            "_QUATRE!_" Dorothy screamed.  Quatre snatched Heero's semi-automatic and shot Rashid.  Rashid dropped his gun and held his shoulder.  Quatre shot him again, angry this time.  Rashid cried out, and fell to his knees.  Quatre shot one last time, sealing the revenge he never claimed to believe in.  Rashid toppled head over heels down the staircase landing a few feet from Relena and Dorothy.  They scurried away.  Quatre stayed frozen in the position he used to shoot Rashid all three times.  He couldn't believe what just happened.  My God, what have I done? What have I _done_, God? How could I? He was my father, my _father_.  Quatre lay back slowly and stared at the ceiling, the endless marble ceiling dotted here and there with brilliant chandeliers—perfect serenity.  Tears flowed.  Quatre clenched his teeth and sobbed. It's over.


	12. Now

            Relena laid two pink flowers on Heero's grave and let a tear go.  Dorothy stood beside her and said a prayer for the fallen warrior.  Relena sighed heavily, cursing herself for even considering spending the rest of her life with him.  He did a great thing, though, saving his friend.  The bullet had gone clean through his skull and he stayed in a coma for a week before he died.  For once, he died against his will.  Perhaps the human will is more a matter of ego, Relena thought, tearring up.  Dorothy heard her sniffle and put a hanky to her eye.  

            "Good Bye Heero," Relena wept, tearing her eyes away from the sight of her love.  Quatre could never bear to look at Heero.  Heero didn't have to die.  Quatre should have been the one to die.  But now, now was not the time to be trying to repair the past.  Quatre stood a distance away from the grave and said a loving goodbye to the best friend a man could ask for.  Quatre almost cried, but not in front of the girls.  He rolled Rashid over to Heero's grave.

            "Say goodbye, Rashid," Quatre ordered. "You won't see him for a while."

            Rashid, paralyzed form the neck down, said nothing, just squinted his eyes at the tombstone.  Dorothy and Relena honked the horn.  Quatre rolled Rashid to the car.

            "Hey Rashid, remember when you dragged me out from under my bed and beat me because I was playing in the instructor's lab? Well, you are free to visit that place as you please. I won't punish you or anything. You are welcome to do whatever you can.  I love you, father, and I still respect you. In fact, I've got some great father-son stuff for us to do."  Quatre told Rashid about all the great things they would do together—a helpless father and his vengefully loving son.


End file.
